


SIR

by lokilickedme



Series: Chemical Prehistories [9]
Category: Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Aftercare, Chemical prehistory, Dom/sub, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Master/Pet, Violent Sex, brief mention of character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-19 14:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7365319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lokilickedme/pseuds/lokilickedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Love can be a twisted and demanding thing, but in the end it's still love...and our deepest desires live on in those who come after we've gone.</p>
<p>Part 9 of the Chemical Prehistories</p>
            </blockquote>





	SIR

                                                         

 

                             

                                                                          

 

 

 

 

He was the kind of man who received no argument when he stared you in the eyes and said in his honeyed bourbon voice, _Call me Sir and mean it when you do._

So beautiful, his handsome face so sharp and angular but carrying an almost indefinable softness, a kindness that made you feel tenderness toward him, like you would toward a kitten.  But there was nothing of the kitten in him until it was over, when the pain and pleasure ended and the sweet compassion began, when he tended to your wounds and kissed the hurts until you believed the throbbing ache was something good, something pleasant, because it brought his soft kisses and even softer words.  When his eyes became kind and his warm breath ghosted across your skin to soothe and excite you all over again.

Because he deserved the title he demanded.  I have never called a man Sir and meant it...until him.

 

_"Do you like pain?"_

_"I don't know...I've never really had it inflicted."_

_"You will."_

 

This man...he worked his way into my awareness almost insidiously, his friendliness and intense professionalism catching my attention long before his handsome face wheedled itself into my curious fascination.  He didn't even work in my department, but when projects approached deadlines and things needed to move more quickly, he came down from the seventeenth floor like a god from Olympus, gracing the mortals with his elegant presence and unfaltering ability to get things done.  Somewhere in the midst of that, on his third day in my department while paperwork was being shuffled and phonecalls were being made and overtime schedules were being drawn up and groaned over, he followed me into the ladies room, silently slipping in behind me so that I never saw him until I glanced in the mirror and there he was, his steely grey-blue eyes already fucking me.

_"Shhh - "_

Sweeping my hair back off my neck so his mouth could press warmly to my skin unimpeded, I felt him pushing me slowly, almost gently forward over the countertop.  His hands deftly tugged my skirt up and my panties down, letting them slip to my ankles as he reached around me to grab a handful between my legs.

I didn't stop him.  I didn't make a sound once the initial gasp of surprise left my throat.  The only noise was his breath against the back of my neck and my heartbeat thudding in my ears and the soft rustling sound of my skirt being pushed further up around my waist.

And then the tide turned from a gentle ebb to a rushing wave.

Before I realized anything had changed, he suddenly had two fingers in my pussy and his thumb in my ass while he ground his cock into the back of my thighs, pushing me hard over the edge of the sink, his other hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back, forcing me to watch in the mirror.

_"Spread your legs,"_ he hissed in my ear, his eyes on mine in our reflected image.   _"I'm going to fill your cunt."_

I obeyed without hesitation, watching as he let go of my hair long enough to reach down and unzip his fly, taking his cock out and lining it up with my opening that his fingers had left wet.  Pushing his chest against my back, he slid inside, biting my shoulder as his other hand came up to squeeze my breast through my blouse.  It was a hard, unloving touch, but I didn't care - it had been so long, and his hands were warm.

It was enough.

 

 

He came quickly, pulling out before he climaxed and turning me around so he could ejaculate on my thighs.  Something told me he wanted me to watch and so I did, mesmerized by the way his thick cock twitched and jerked as his orgasm emptied him.  When he was finished he raised his head and looked at me, his eyes going soft, one hand coming up to stroke my cheek as a tiny contented smile tugged at his mouth.

We put ourselves back together without speaking, but he never avoided my eyes, watching me in the mirror as I readjusted my clothing after he gently cleaned me up.  I hadn't expected him to do it, but he whetted some paper towels with warm water and very tenderly wiped his come from my thighs.  A soft kiss was ghosted across the curve of my neck, sweet and gentle, the unexpected naked intimacy of it sending a shiver up my spine.

 

 

As he leaned across my desk to hand me a stack of files, his eyes held mine for a long moment before he smiled, that same tender smile he'd shown me in the bathroom.

"I'm asking you to have dinner with me tomorrow night," he said, the honey and bourbon caressing me as silkily as his lips had.  "Are you accepting?"

The skewered invitation took me off guard and I hesitated, unsure exactly how I should respond.  I settled for a simple yes, taking the files from his hand, my fingers brushing over his so lightly that I wasn't sure we had actually touched until I saw the almost shy smile on his face.  It was a gentleness that ran so incongruous with the abrupt and dominant manner in which he'd handled me in the ladies room that I felt my cheeks flushing, confusion mixing with embarrassment.  The beautiful man standing so politely on the other side of my desk had pushed his fingers and his cock into me like he owned me.  Those same fingers that mine had just touched.

He barely knew my name.

 

 

"Get undressed and get up on the bed on your hands and knees. Now."

I obeyed, quickly.  In a few short moments I was naked, stripping for him on command without arguing, despite a deep humiliation that burned my cheeks and kept me from meeting his eyes as I did so.  He had asked my permission to touch me, to kiss me, to accompany me to my bedroom...but once we were there and he'd sat me on the edge of the bed to kneel in front of me, his strong hands gently squeezing my knees, his rules had been laid out in as clear and concise a manner as if he were outlining a merger in a staff meeting.

 

_"You will do as I say, pet.  You will give me your permission to do as I see fit with you, and I will do just that - what I see fit.  I will handle you however I choose and you will accept my touch and my attention without struggle or debate.  Inside this bedroom you belong to me and I will hurt you if I please.  And when I'm finished with you, I will take care of you and soothe any pain I have inflicted.  Are we understood?"_

 

I nodded, staring into his face with fear and fascination.

"You will always answer me clearly and with words, pet.  If you do not, you will be punished.  Do you understand?  You must say Yes Sir or No Sir, no exceptions."

"Yes Sir."

The smile he gifted me with was so loving, so tender, that I felt myself shaking as he stood to full height before me and reached down to offer me his upturned hands.

"Come along then."

 

 

_"Lovely. Very nice. I'll be having some of that."_

My eyes were closed so tightly that I saw white lights behind my eyelids, a hazy dizziness clouding my absent thoughts as he moved around the bed, appraising me with his eyes.  I could feel them on me and it brought a burning, choking need to cry into my throat;  no one had seen me naked since the birth of my child and I wasn't prepared mentally or emotionally for this.  I wasn't comfortable in my new body yet and here I was, exposed, on display with no way to hide any part of myself.

It was horrifying, exhilarating, and oddly erotic.

He slapped my bottom, hard, with the flat of his hand.  The cry that tore unexpected from my throat displeased him and he tipped my face up with a fingertip under my chin, a scowl of disapproval coloring his handsome face with something that wasn't anger so much as annoyance.

"Not a sound, my pet."

I choked down a sob, nodding hurriedly.

"Yes Sir."

 

 

I couldn't begin to describe how he made love to me that night.  It veered so dizzyingly from tender passion to reckless violent abandon that my body lost track of which was which and began responding identically to both extremes.  Pleasure became pain and then became pleasure again, too many times to keep up with...I stopped trying to consciously interpret what was what and surrendered completely to let him do with me as he pleased, finding with a dark guilty pleasure that I enjoyed it, _all of it,_ my pleading voice finally finding itself sobbing out a desperate request - the only thing he allowed me to ask of him, the one thing he happily granted.

_Please Sir...more..._

 

 

I lay there, tasting my own blood where it oozed from my split lip, the salty copper tang of it exciting me so that I knew I would take this again, happily, with great yearning.

He kissed my shoulder, softly, gently, and whispered lovingly against my bare skin...

_"I would like to see you again."_

 

 

He wouldn't allow my child to be in the house when he was there.  It was one of his rules - no children, and absolutely no risking the siring of more.  He checked my birth control pills each time he came to spend the night, ensuring there could be no accidents.  All evidence of the baby was to be removed from my bedroom before he arrived, and to accommodate him I made arrangements with a friend to keep my little girl overnight on the nights he spent with me.

It was a lot for him to ask of me, but I was willing to do it for one simple reason.

_The way he made me feel._  Both before and after we had sex, as if no one else on earth mattered, as if nothing was more important to him than making sure that I was coddled and cared for and treasured.  He made me feel desirable and craved before the act, and nurtured and petted after.  The part in between those two points was sometimes difficult to take, but to be held and kissed and touched so tenderly afterwards made me hunger for him to hurt me, to give himself a reason to tend to me, to lick the tears from my face as if they were life itself and he was dying.  To bathe me and clean me and wrap me in a soft blanket and rock me gently on his lap, praising me, adoring me, telling me what a good girl I was...in all its perverse beauty, our relationship found itself suiting me.

For this, I allowed him anything.

 

 

His dominance was an unpredictable thing, until I learned its pattern.  Once our lovemaking was over, it ended.  We left the bedroom and what we'd done inside it stayed behind, not following us beyond the door, remaining silent and discreet to await our return.  He would stay for a while, cooking dinner for me in my kitchen, napping on my sofa while I watched TV or read.  All so very different from what went on elsewhere in the house, not spoken of, never referenced between us.  He treated me with a sweet kindness and gentle respect that I would have found confusing if it hadn't been so seamless and natural.

It seemed unlikely that such a beautiful, kind face could decorate such a dark soul.  But it was only half a soul that edged about in darkness...the other part of him, the part that existed outside the confines of my bedroom, shone bright like the sun, blinding me with its warmth and the soft kiss of its light upon my skin.

It felt right, and it felt beautiful, and through frequent tears I found myself loving him.

 

But he was a strict man, and transgressions brought severe punishments.

And though the cracking slap of his belt across my bottom drew cries of pain from deep within me, they were _never_ cries of protest.

 

 

The first time he saw my daughter, I actually felt afraid.  He had come without warning, forgetting in his haste to see me that preparation time was necessary on my end;  I had no chance to make arrangements for my friend to take her, and while I was finishing a phonecall he went into my bedroom to wait for me.  Once I realized where he had gone, a cold panic gripped my chest...the baby's portable crib was in my bedroom, next to the bed, where she always slept when he wasn't there.

I hurriedly ended the call and rushed to the bedroom, not sure what I would find, but resolutely determined not to apologize for anything.  It was my home, my child...one day he would have to accept that he couldn't keep one of us in his life without acknowledging the other.

He was looking down into the crib, his eyes trained intently on my sleeping daughter.

"How old is it?" he asked, as if one might ask the pharmacy hours. I moved up beside him and looked down at her, feeling angered by his indifference toward her.

_"It?"_

"Sorry - the baby. How old is the baby."

"The baby is a she and her name is Anja."

"Of course. How old is she?"

"She's five months." I looked up at him, his face still curiously blank, still watching my daughter. "Have you ever held a baby?"

"No," he said abruptly, turning his face to me. "And I've no desire to."

 

 

I stood before him as ordered, committing a transgression that I knew wouldn't go unpunished even as I obeyed his lovingly issued demand.  I was still wearing my bathrobe, covering myself, a sudden and crippling surge of uneasy self consciousness not allowing me to show him my naked body in the bright light of day.  He had always kindly afforded me the luxury and protection of soft, dim lighting - but it was the middle of the afternoon and sunlight poured unrelentingly through the sheer curtains, giving me nothing to put up as a shield between us.

"Why would you want to hide any of yourself from me?" he asked, true confusion furrowing his brow. He honestly didn't understand.

I pulled my robe tighter around myself, shrugging in a vain attempt not to look so pitifully self conscious. "I just had a baby five months ago...my body's not quite...the way it used to be."

He tilted his head a little, his eyes dropping to the front of my robe where I was holding it shut. "And why would you think that has made you any less desirable?"

I wasn't sure what to say...I could feel my mouth trying to form words, but there were none. All I could think about was his sharp silvery eyes appraising my puffy, jiggly post-baby stomach and swollen, stretchmark-covered breasts in the unforgiving light and finding them unappealing, even though his hands and lips didn't seem to have any issue with them under the sheets or in the half light of my bedroom at night.

"I...I don't know, Sir."

He stared at my hands for a long moment, watching my fingers nervously clutching at the fabric.  I knew he would be issuing a command soon, but I didn't expect it to come in such a gentle voice as it did.

"Open your robe, pet."

Something in that softly spoken order soothed me and I drew in a deep breath, releasing my grip on the robe, letting it fall open.  Through tightly closed eyes I sensed him near me, felt his warm hand slip inside. 

"Do you breastfeed your baby?"  His hand was cupping my breast, his thumb teasing lightly over my nipple in a maddeningly slow circular motion that made me suck in my breath each time it passed over the hard nub.  He was watching my face, his eyes falling occasionally to his hand as he caressed me.

"Yes, Sir."

"Which breast did she feed from last?"

His question took me off guard, but his fingers were pinching my nipple teasingly, sending a heated shot of arousal to my stomach where it spread and seeped lower till my head dropped back, a groan escaping against my will.  He could pull such deep reactions from my body, so easily...it was frightening sometimes, the control he could command with only the simple effort it took to touch me.

"That one...the left."

He slipped his hand under my other breast and held it lovingly as he lowered his head to kiss it.  The soft caress of his breath as his lips parted to take my swollen nipple into his mouth sent a shiver through me, so intense and electric that I had to put my hands hurriedly on his shoulders to steady myself.  He could make me wet so quickly, so easily, like flipping a switch, but it was more than basic physical arousal, the primal instinct to prepare for mating.  It was so much more.

It was the anticipation of his touch.

The reward of receiving it.

The excitement of earning his praise.

The contentment of pleasing him.

And the pure bliss of his attentions, offered so freely and administered with such passionate skill.

 

"May I have your consent?' he asked, silken voice sliding over my senses as his hands slid over my body, up under the robe that I had mistakenly believed would offer me some emotional protection;  I knew what he was asking for, he never proceeded without my permission and he would wait patiently until it was given.

I always gave it.

"Yes, Sir."

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he held his hands out to me, palms up, allowing me to lay my hands on top of them - the only opportunity I would have to hold the dominant position.  It was a little kindness he afforded me, a reminder that something so simple as holding hands could balance the power between us.  His long fingers curled around mine and he drew me to him, settling me onto his lap.

"Never hide yourself from me, pet.  There is nothing you can tuck inside a robe that I don't desire, no part of you that I don't hunger for."  He tipped my face up with a finger under my chin.  "Never presume to decide for me what I will and won't find beautiful.  Do you understand?"

I nodded, suddenly afraid of his tone even though it was calm and controlled.  There was an edge hidden under the soft chastisement that made my stomach clench, though I wasn't sure if it was fear or excitement.  He was watching my face, waiting for me to answer.

"Yes, Sir."

A smile softened his expression, changing it from the professional mask of authority I saw all day at the office into something different, something kind and beautiful...something that made me lay back on the bed and close my eyes when he told me to, spreading my legs for him when he said it was time, holding tightly to his shoulders when he pushed into me.  I never knew when he came to me if I would end up crying from his strict admonishments and sometimes cruel punishments, or from pure overwhelming appreciation for the adoration he soothed into me.  He could veer from one to the other so quickly that I ended up confused and scared, but always, always, his face would soften and he would touch my cheek, call me his darling pet, and guide me back to contentment.   

 

 

I often beat myself up over my relationship with Sir, out of guilt more than anything.  The exclusion of my child brought a profound sense of shame with it, but I soothed my frayed moral compass with a justification of sorts.  My child's father had promised me the sun and the moon in exchange for my love, which I granted begrudgingly;  but the sun hid behind clouds and the moon went red the moment my belly began to swell.  His profession of devotion had been pretty lies and fanciful stories of rainbows and futures together.

Sir was the stars, sparkling and bright, shrouded in darkness but shining through it.  He promised me nothing except this day, this moment, this experience.  This fleeting touch, this whispered praise.  There was no false hope for tomorrow, no grandiose claims of forever, just a quiet smile and a gentle touch in the morning's light that said _until next time, whenever it shall be._

It was enough, and for all its frightening intensity, it was far better than my last memory of love.

 

 

_Don't text back.  Do as you're told.  Nod to show you understand._

I nodded.  One of the district supervisors glanced toward me briefly, but his eyes moved on without lingering.

_Good girl.  Scoot up close to the table._

I obeyed, pausing just a moment for the litigator from the corporate branch to start speaking again so that the sound of my chair moving on the marble tiles wouldn't draw attention.  I knew Sir noticed the pause and was keeping track of how quickly I followed his orders...I also knew that brief moment wouldn't go unpunished.

_Spread your legs._

_Finger yourself._

_Two fingers, all the way in.  Don't remove them till I say._

Knowing the demands would become progressively worse if I didn't do exactly as I was told, I followed his instructions, allowing myself to glance down the long table at him just once before I slipped my fingers into myself.  He was writing notes in a file, nodding as the coordinator outlined the agenda for the quarter, but I knew his other hand was under the table, deftly typing out my torment.

_Now kick the table so everyone looks at you._

I groaned inwardly, but did as he said, the heel of my shoe banging loudly against the center leg of the long table.  I didn't realize it was hollow until the sound echoed through the conference room, drawing the attention of a good half of my co workers and superiors.  I smiled contritely, my fingers buried deep between my legs as I apologized for the disturbance.

From the corner of my eye I could see Sir smiling.

 

My reward for unquestioning obedience was a quick finish in the executive washroom on the 23rd floor, abandoned due to the meeting.  Sir lifted me onto the wash basins and pushed my skirt up, dropping to his knees between my thighs, burying his face where my fingers had been and licking me to a delirious climax before slipping his cock into me.  I watched us in the full length mirrors behind him, staring over his shoulder at the strange creature we melded into, a long, elegantly suited back with a spare pair of legs that wrapped around it and two extra arms circled tightly about its neck.

As he was cleaning me up afterwards and I repaired my messy hair in that same mirror, he kissed my shoulder and murmured that he loved me.  We had been together for almost a year and he'd never said that to me before;  I stared at him in the mirror, unsure that I'd heard him correctly.  There was no indication either way on his face...just an adoring smile as he straightened his tie and smoothed my skirt down with his palms.

"I'm going to take you away this weekend," he told me as he opened the door and held it for me, his hand out to take mine and draw it to his lips for a warm kiss across my knuckles that made my heart flutter and my stomach go quivery.

The meeting was resuming when we arrived and I glanced over at him as he circled the long table to take his seat near the end.  The smile that had belonged only to me a moment ago had shifted into the absolute authority that the rest of the room was accustomed to, and as I took my own seat toward the other end, I knew that now-hidden smile wasn't the only thing that belonged exclusively to me.

The words he'd spoken into my skin.  I knew, with no uncertainty, that he'd never spoken those words to anyone else.

 

 

**Denver - two weeks later**

 

"I'm done with this, take it and have it officiated."  Shoving a thick file toward the suited man behind her, the woman gave him a dismissive wave of her hand, a frown of annoyance following quickly as he failed to disappear on her unspoken command.  The man's voice was hesitant as he looked down at the file in his hands.

"Are you sure about this?"

The woman sighed, an altogether unpleasant sound that indicated a deep and abiding irritation at finding herself in this situation - and at being questioned on the soundness of her decision regarding it.  She turned to give the man a withering stare.

"My nephew cared for that child's mother enough to die with her, so far be it from me to turn my back on a child he may have one day taken in as his own."

The man tried to hide the surprise in his expression, masking it with a quick nod and a glance to the floor.  He wasn't used to his employer showing kindness, even as begrudging as this particular kindness obviously was.  Before he could leave, she spoke again, though he wasn't sure if she was addressing him or voicing off to herself.

"Dammit Alexander...just had to go and get yourself killed, didn't you?"  She noticed the man was still in the room and fixed him with an expressionless stare, the closest she could manage to sadness.  "Well at least there's no question who the company will go to now, my other nephew - Robert's boy, he'll have to step up if we can get him out of England.  Which one is he, anyway?  Robert the second?  There would have been a fight there, I can tell you - no doubt a deathmatch would have been waged between him and Alexander for the San Diego branch."  She paused for a moment, furrowing her brow in thought.  "Hasn't he got a son?  There's a Robert the third, right?  How tidy, someone to take over after him."

Nodding again, the man stepped toward the door to excuse himself, in a hurry to carry out his task before she changed her mind.  His back stiffened involuntarily when her voice stopped him.

"What was the child's name again?"

Rifling quickly through the file, the man scanned the papers till his eyes fell upon the information he needed.

"Anja Marie Black."

"Anja, that's right.  An odd name, rather unseemly, don't you think?  Perhaps I'll have it changed."

The man nodded, unsure what he should say, if anything.  He was saved by another dismissive wave as his employer decided she'd had enough of this distraction;  there were far more important things to be dealt with.  "You can go.  Be sure you get that all finalized, I don't want the child going into foster care."  She reached for the phone on her desk, adding as an afterthought as she dialed, "For all I know she might actually be Alexander's."

There was no way to respond without risking offense, so the man simply turned to leave.

"Yes, Ms Laing."

 

 

**Colorado Springs - Five years later**

 

The little girl came quietly into the room, trying her best not to disturb the stern older woman as she finished her phone call and quickly affixed her signature to a few papers stacked neatly on the desk in front of her.  She stood quietly until the woman finally looked up at her, her face an unfriendly mask of professionalism mixed with a distinct air of having been inconvenienced by the girl's presence.  After a long moment she huffed out a sigh of displeasure.

"That hair.  Such a vulgar color.  I should cut it all off until you're old enough for it to be dyed a proper shade, something less distracting.  It's not polite to draw attention for anything other than talent and intelligence, genuine accomplishments Anja.  Flashy genetics don't count."

The girl nodded, looking at the floor, not understanding but knowing better than to ask questions.

"I'm going to raise you as a proper lady, not like that whore mother of yours.  And you'll marry a proper gentleman, not like that reprehensible nephew of mine that died beside her."

The child nodded again, eager to be agreeable and not draw the woman's ire.

"Yes grandmother."

_"Ma'am."_

"Yes ma'am."

She stared at the girl for a long while, not sure why the skinny little orphan made her feel such unfamiliar, unwelcome things.  Compassion and pity, mostly - traits she had always considered weaknesses to be overcome if possible and avoided or outright denied if not.  She had taken her in with the intention of raising her, bringing her up properly, giving her the opportunity to make something of herself.  And yet she wasn't entirely sure why.

Her nephew had loved the child's mother, no doubt.  And if it hadn't been love, it at least had been enough to draw him to her and keep him there.  She had disapproved heartily of the relationship and chastised him for it more than once, but he had simply smiled at her, that infuriatingly handsome face of his taking the edge right off her displeasure.

And so she had taken his lover's child into her home.  The line was drawn at giving her the family's name - she would keep her own identity, find her own way in the world without the Laing name to give her a leg up.  But the Laing fortune would put her through a good school, she would see to that.  She would watch with pride as her little charity case did well in life.  It would be her one humanitarian act in a lifetime of business decisions.

So when Anja enrolled in the University of San Diego instead of Cambridge, Ms Laing's attorney had to remind her that she couldn't legally disown a child she had never legally adopted, and that the fund for her schooling was now in the girl's name and therefore in her control.

Anja was in her second year of college when the old woman passed away, leaving her with nothing but the money for her education, a set of proper manners, and a strong sense of moral decency that would stick with her for life.

It was more than enough.

 

 

**San Diego, California**

 

The girl had left school and gone home to Colorado for her grandmother's funeral - or the woman she had _called_ grandmother, at any rate.  It had never been entirely clear to her if she was actually related to the woman who raised her;  no one had ever indicated one way or the other to her, and she had never asked.  But she knew she didn't look like her, and the old woman had relocated with her to Colorado Springs early on, away from the rest of the family, as if they were in hiding.  She'd never met any of them, and none of them had ever made any effort to communicate with either her or her guardian once they moved away.

She never asked why.

And in that second year of college, the day she returned to classes, she noticed a dark haired boy looking shyly at her from across the room while the professor droned on about top tier economics and financial security in capitalist society.  She had smiled at him, laughing a little when he quickly looked away with cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.

It was a week later before she saw him again, in the crowded hallway outside the campus bookstore when she turned around and saw him smiling at her.  His hand shot up and he waved to her, though he was only standing a few feet away.

"Hey Anj."

She smiled, wanting to put him at ease...something about him made her feel warm, something in the soft kindness of his pale blue eyes.  It wasn't electric or exciting or heated like passion, but it felt nice, and it made her feel safe.

It was enough.

She put her hand up and waved back, laughing a little because the crowd had moved them close enough to touch each other and they were still waving, standing face to face.  

"Hi Sam."

 

 

_The End_

 

 


End file.
